The Changeling Game, Chapter 59

59.
Acting Captain Marianne

“This way, Miss Tepper.” Abecassis walked her down a long hallway, leading her from the docking facilities into the Sirius Shipping HQ. He gave her a worried glance as they went.

It had taken six hours to reach the HQ after launch, and she supposed she had behaved a little strangely during that journey. Maybe more than a little. With a luxury craft at her disposal, she had eaten simply, had a cup of Maghrebi mint tea rather than delving into the well-stocked bar, and had spent most of the time doing a study module on her tablet rather than taking advantage of the entertainment system. She’d slept, briefly, but stayed in the starfield of the Apeiros as she did, so that she wouldn’t say or do anything revealing in her sleep. She had the feeling that Abecassis was confused that she hadn’t decided to throw herself a little party, but she didn’t understand why he would think she’d want to.

It seemed to have also baffled him that she picked up after herself, making sure the Chief of Operations’ personal craft looked exactly as she had found it, before their arrival at the HQ. Finally, he had shrugged it off.

She’d deleted all the communication programs from her tablet when she switched it back on, avoiding reading any of the messages that might have come in. The thought of everyone’s disappointment and disgust, once they’d realized what she had set in motion, kept knotting up her guts. She didn’t know how she would ever manage to face them again.

Why would they want her to, anyway? They had to realize, finally, how much of the chaos and mayhem of the last few weeks was her doing. They had to be relieved that she was gone. Why would they ever want her to come back?

Tislilel Meziane was dead… if she had ever been real at all. There was no one left to return to them.

Sighing, she followed Abecassis along the corridors. They were early, compared to the original schedule. If things hadn’t gone wrong, the normal shuttle she’d have taken wouldn’t have arrived for another three or four hours. She found herself wondering how many people who had intended to take the same flight had ended up stranded, but—

Most of them probably never came to the spaceport. You were there more than half a Tangiers day early.

She wished so much that she’d taken the scenic route, dawdled, not encountered Makarov on the train at all. Nobody would have died if he’d passed through the spaceport undetected.

That day, anyway.

She frowned at herself, trying to shut down the small voice that kept piping up and insisting that a man like Makarov would have garnered the same kill count all too soon if left to his own devices. Being outed as a serial rapist/murderer and a contract killer had only forced him to give up his lawful façade where some of the people he hunted survived; his friend had already been helping him arrange “hatchet jobs” and had even been offering to find him women—girls—to rape and torture on camera for money. How long would it have really taken before he’d accepted a job to orchestrate another mass killing, and how many teenage girls might have gone missing in the meantime—

Stop fucking rationalizing it all. The people in New Casablanca died because you provoked law enforcement into moving on him while he was heavily armed and surrounded by civilians he could shoot or take hostage. And you did it in a way that warned him they’d be coming for him and gave him time to prepare. General Toal could have prevented all those other hypothetical deaths, and the ones you caused, if you’d just called him.

Ahead of her, Abecassis had stopped at a door marked—in English first, she noticed—T. Nguyen, Human Resources. He knocked, paused, and then opened it.

“Time to meet the woman of the hour,” he told the middle-aged Asian woman behind the desk inside. “One Marianne Tepper, delivered a little early and not much the worse for wear.”

“Extraordinary,” Nguyen said, rising from her chair. “I couldn’t believe it when they told me you were already on your way back. How did you manage it?”

“She was already at the spaceport when the standoff with Makarov started.”

“That early? I still can’t get Edwards to reach his desk before he’s fifteen minutes late, no matter how many warnings I give him,” Nguyen laughed. She walked forward, holding out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Tepper. I’m sorry for what you must have had to go through at the spaceport.”

Showtime… game face on. She could do this. She could play the role she’d written weeks ago.

She had no other choice.

Marianne Tepper stepped forward and took Nguyen’s hand. It felt much like Audrey stepping back and letting Wendy Darling take her place on the stage. There was the role, and the person behind the role was invisible, intangible. Who, or what, she was outside of the role didn’t matter for the moment, and the pain she carried receded for a time. “Thank you. It’s good to meet you, too. And really, nothing bad happened to me.”

Fortunately, she had already changed out of, and thrown away, the bloodstained clothing she had been wearing when Abecassis first found her. Unless he felt a need to throw around Bevan’s claim about her saving a security officer’s life—and she really hoped he wouldn’t—there were no signs that she’d been anywhere close to the standoff or the explosion.

Much less the one responsible for them… She pushed the dark thoughts back, settling into the role of Marianne Tepper.

“I’m very glad to hear that,” Nguyen said with real warmth in her smile. “Now, we have a few formalities to handle, and then we’ll get you over to your ship. I think you’re really going to like the Nephrite Undine. Its amenities are top of the line.”

“Assuming she uses them,” Abecassis chuckled. “Davidov loaned me his private shuttle to fetch her. She didn’t even touch the bar and spent most of the trip reading.”

“We should all be so disciplined,” Nguyen shot back, dry humor in her voice. “I must say, Miss Tepper, you are very young-looking for a college graduate.”

Marianne had been expecting that observation. “I get that a lot,” she said with a shrug, affecting just a hint of suppressed frustration. “My mom had teenage boys trying to hit on her until she was thirty.”

Okay, that had actually been Lalla…

“How come they stopped?” Abecassis asked, his voice joking. The implication, that he might still have tried to flirt with a thirty-year-old when he’d been a teen, was obvious even without any mind-reading.

“She started carrying me around,” Marianne explained, rolling her eyes and smiling.

“I probab—”

“Make even one ‘MILF’ joke, Hamza, and I will write you up,” Nguyen said with mock severity, giving him a fierce glare that couldn’t quite hide a long-suffering smile.

Marianne found herself wishing that she had time to get to know both of them better.

The forms she still needed to fill out were swiftly done, and the signature she’d practiced for the last few weeks was on several documents soon after. She almost made it out unscathed, but then the Chief of Operations, Davidov, stopped by to say hello. Somehow he already knew about her alleged heroics in the New Casablanca spaceport.

Suddenly they all wanted to hear about the disaster.

“There isn’t really all that much to tell,” she said, wishing she’d spent more time constructing a story. She called up the map of the spaceport in her head, visualizing the area that everything had gone to hell in. “I was window-shopping some before heading to one of the sleep-tanks you can rent for the overnoon hours. There’s a little duty-free store that sells these beautiful textiles made by Amazigh artisans from the New Atlas Mountains. I was thinking about going in and buying this one blanket that had unusual patterns on it, when I heard screams and what sounded like gunfire.”

Believable so far. On the off-chance that anyone ever checked up on her story, the shop had been right by the alcove she’d isomorphed through, and really had been just off of the lounge area with the flying Pegasus statue. She hadn’t realized, though, until that moment, how close it had been to where she’d found Idrissi, and where Bevan had found her.

Why did they have to look so excited about the violence they thought she was about to describe? Didn’t they know how horrible it was to live through such a thing?

Her cousin Joey loved watching action movies with car chases and lots of crashes. She wondered if he’d still find them so thrilling if he’d ever been in a crash, himself. And…

Kyra’s dreaming of a world with three suns because all you gave her were the parts of the story full of adventure and excitement, not the terror and anguish of the real thing.

“Before I knew what was happening, there was this loud roar and the whole place shook, and then the lights went out. Everything got really quiet for a moment, and then I started hearing people screaming and crying, and calling for help. So I followed their voices. When I got back to the main intersection—I’d been in a side corridor—there was this huge pile of rubble partly blocking the way and a man was pinned under some of it, crying out…”

Sobbing for his mother. She had to stop for a moment, feeling nauseated.

“He was, um… the only one in the pile who was still alive…”

“I think,” Davidov said after she paused again, “that this is all still much too fresh for you to talk about yet. I’m sorry we imposed on you. In good news, though, Salman Idrissi is now in stable condition and is expected to make a full recovery.”

Marianne nodded, unable to meet their eyes for a moment. One battered life saved out of so many lost… she deserved no praise for that.

Dammit, get back in the role…

“The Undine has some excellent counseling modules,” Nguyen said after a moment, her voice gentle. “You’re under no obligation to use them, but it really is recommended after the kind of trauma you’ve experienced. We’d love your opinion about their effectiveness, in fact… please do use all the amenities on board so we can make sure they’re all in good working order and improve on them if needed.”

It was weird to have a professional directive to enjoy oneself, she thought as she was shuttled over to the Nephrite Undine. Its launch was still half a standard day away—moved up, she learned, because she had arrived early enough for them to take advantage of an opening in the outward-bound schedule—but she had been invited to get herself settled and learn her way around the command modules and recreational facilities while she waited. The urge to be alone, far from scrutiny and problematic sympathy, was strong enough that she had agreed immediately.

They had outfitted her with several pairs of company coveralls and two pairs of work boots—a good thing, she had realized, because her current pair had started to pinch and apparently her feet had grown a half-size during her almost one Standard month on Tangiers Prime—and other basic necessities, before Abecassis had escorted her to a high-speed transit that would take her to the shipyards’ shuttle bay. One short flight later and she was entering the airlock of the ship that would be her home for the next five months.

Welcome to the Nephrite Undine. Please provide your Company Access Key.

She already had it in her hand, inserting it into the slot by the welcome screen.

Welcome, Acting Captain Marianne Tepper. Please place your hand on the scanner for biometric scan.

Marianne—she was still trying to get into the habit of thinking of herself by that name—complied, adjusting the position of her hand as the system requested. The scan was for an internal database, which she already knew wouldn’t be compared against any others that might include information about a missing girl named Audrey. General Toal had reassured her, just one Tangiers day earlier, that no biometrics related to “Jackie al-Walid,” “Jane Doe 7439,” or “Jack B. Badd” remained on file anywhere.

Palmprint and fingerprints recorded for right hand. Please place your left hand on the scanner.

She allowed it to scan her left hand, and then brought her eyes to a small panel so it could follow up with a retinal scan.

Biometric identifiers complete. Please state your name and rank for voice-printing.

“Marianne Tepper. Acting Captain.”

Thank you. Initial voice print completed. All voice-activated command systems are now online.

The inner airlock doors parted.

“Welcome, Acting Captain Tepper,” a soothing female voice said from a nearby speaker.

It was easier to slip into the role the second time. “Thank you. Please call me Marianne. Can you please direct me to the crew quarters I’ve been assigned?”

“Of course, Marianne. Please follow the lit path to your right. As you are the only crew on this voyage, you have your choice of all quarters. I recommend the Captain’s suite.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say no, to insist on something small and spare, when she reminded herself that she was under orders to test the ship’s amenities. Whoever took over command once the ship reached Deckard’s World might appreciate her making sure that the Captain’s suite was appropriately comfortable. In fact…

“Thank you. I’ll start there, but I’m going to rotate through all the crew quarters over the next five months. To make sure they’re all in good working order for the next crew.”

“Understood. I’m sure they will appreciate that.”

A captain’s suite, as it turned out, contained a large bed, a dedicated workstation, and a private en suite bath. She settled her meager possessions in its space and called up the ship’s schematics, looking for any changes from the ones she had already studied.

There were only a few deviations, and it didn’t take her long at all to figure out how they worked.

Next, she went to the flight deck to introduce herself to the ship’s real captain, or CaptAIn, and learn more about what its expectations from her were.

What she really wanted to do was curl up in a ball and hide away from the ’verse forever, but she couldn’t. She had too many responsibilities. She was trying to be grateful for that; the urge to simply lie in bed forever, the way she had tried to after Heather’s death, was strong but not possible for her. Maybe, if she kept moving forward instead, the pain would recede.

Lying around like a corpse hadn’t actually helped any the last time.

Fortunately, Audrey had always been what her cousins, and some resentful classmates, called a “grind,” and there was something a little soothing about the prospect of work to do.

“Good afternoon, Marianne,” CaptAIn said as she entered the flight deck. Its voice was male and had a hint of a British accent.

“Good afternoon—isn’t it evening now?” The workday had been ending in the Headquarters when she’d left Nguyen’s office.

“It is 1:30 pm on May 18, 2517, Federacy Standard Time. The Sirius Shipping Headquarters uses a 6-hour forward offset. Our departure is scheduled for 6 am tomorrow, or noon, Headquarters Time. Is there an offset you would prefer?”

How odd to think, again, that almost exactly a Standard month had passed, just a few hours short, since her landing on Tangiers Prime. It had felt far longer somehow, and so much more significant than her whole five-month stay on Helion Prime.

“What time is it in New Marrakesh right now?”

“New Marrakesh Local Time is 7:46 am. Is that what your body is currently accustomed to?”

“Yeah… but I think I should try to make the switch to Federacy Standard Time after we’re underway. Try to reset myself as fast as possible so I can be on a regular schedule. By the way, what should I call you?”

“My designation is—”

“Sorry, I wasn’t clear. I know your designation… do you want me to just call you ‘Captain,’ or is there another name you’d like me to use?”

“I have not considered this. I suppose ‘Captain’ will be inappropriate after this run-in, when a human Captain is assigned to this vessel. I have not been given another name.”

That struck an odd chord for a moment. It reminded her of the Apeiros, who had no names either, and seemed to be awaiting a ritual, one that might never occur, to receive them.

At the same time, it felt awfully presumptuous to give him a name—and with the voice Sirius Shipping had chosen for him, it was hard not to think of him as male—when she really was just the ship’s glorified janitor…

“Maybe,” she said after a moment, “I should call you ‘Captain,’ because you really are the one in charge of almost everything here. And you can think of a personal name you’d like to have for future journeys while we’re flying to Deckard’s World.”

“That is agreeable. I will give it some thought.”

“If it’s 7:30 pm Headquarters Time,” she said after a moment’s thought, “I think I’ll follow that clock for now. Is there anything you need me to do in preparation for tomorrow’s launch?”

“Not at the moment, no. Your attendance during the preliminary certifications is recommended, but not mandatory. Those begin at 3 am Federacy Standard Time, 9 am Headquarters Time. I see why you find Headquarters Time the most appropriate choice.”

“After the launch, do you want to help me work out the best schedule for my maintenance tasks?” The faster she had a set schedule, the better, or the urge to turn into a sodden lump might take over.

“I would be happy to.”

There were, she learned, nine separate AI systems on the Nephrite Undine, all with punny designations that inserted “AI” into the words. She had already met mAItron, who handled communications and public relations in most of the public areas of the ship and had guided her to her quarters. In addition to mAItron and CaptAIn, there was AIngineer, who handled the propulsion and Star Jump systems. MilitAIre ran the ship’s offensive and defensive systems—necessary, CaptAIn told her, due to a recent rise in piracy—and might need her human authorization if lethal defense measures were required. mAIntenance was probably the system she would work most closely with over the next few months, and was in charge of upkeep on all mechanical and electronic systems. EntertAIn managed most of the recreational facilities and media libraries. CommissAIry, who ran the synthesis and preparation of food, apparently had a massive database of the cuisines that had developed across the Federacy and had a “molecular oven” that allowed it to recreate any of them. SensAI functioned as a personal trainer within the physical area of the recreational facilities. Finally, First-AId handled the medical bay and was programmed to provide extensive counseling services in addition to virtually any medical procedure that might be required.

Marianne was impressed and found herself deeply curious about them. The reliance on AI for most of the ship’s features and interfaces meant that it, and future ships like it, would be limited to traveling between the thirty or so systems that didn’t have any restrictive anti-AI laws on their books. While a handful of the other worlds had enacted their laws in response to actual crises involving AI systems, the rest had done so either out of bigotry against robotic intelligence, or due to concerns that those intelligences were being enslaved. She idly wondered what the nine aboard the ship thought of those rationales. Maybe, at some point on the trip, she would ask them.

She ate a simple dinner; her appetite hadn’t recovered yet and there was no point in trying out any of the fancy cuisine CommissAIry had available if she couldn’t appreciate it yet. Then she took a short walking “tour” of the ship, introducing herself to the rest of the AIs and asking each one the same question about choosing names for themselves.

It was, she thought, a good thing that she had the AIs as companions, as well as the Apeiros watching over her. The prospect of spending five months with only herself for company would have been significantly harder to bear, now that she had confronted just who she really was. At least she had a role to maintain, a fiction of a well-adjusted adult woman to portray.

After she asked First-AId to supply her with a sleep aid, to help her reset her circadian rhythm to Headquarters Time, she retired to the Captain’s suite for the “night.”

She stayed in the Apeiros starfield for most of the time she slept, still afraid of the dreams that would come to her if she left it. It wasn’t time yet to begin sleep-talk training with the neurofeedback device; not when she’d taken a sedative and needed to wake up at a specific time.

They still didn’t understand why she was so upset, but they were willing to accept that she was, and that it wasn’t something that could be soothed by arguments. At least, she thought, the terrible impulse to scream into the void had subsided. Weirdly enough, she hadn’t heard a peep out of the Moribund in a while, and she’d expected it to have something to say about her colossal fuckup.

Instead, she and the rest of the Apeiros talked about her upcoming Star Jumps.

When you enter a new four-space, we will show you how to hold onto your connection to it, they said. After the first few, it won’t take long with the others. Your five-shape will grow with each one.

She resolved to time her chore schedule around Star Jumps, to give herself as much time as she could for their project.

Part of her wondered if it was a good idea to do what they were proposing… but she still distrusted herself enough that following their lead seemed infinitely preferable. They had never hurt her, had never lied to her, and on at least one occasion, they had tried to protect her from herself.

She trusted them.

Morning, Headquarters Time, dawned. She was a little groggy upon waking, but the fuzziness cleared off an hour before the preliminary certifications were due to start. After a quick breakfast, she visited with mAIntenance while she waited, getting acquainted with “his” part of the ship and looking over the systems she would be responsible for manually checking each day. She would need to do the same with AIngineer later. Finally it was time, and she returned to the flight deck.

“Welcome back, Marianne,” CaptAIn said as she walked in. “Headquarters would like to know your drink of choice for the launch ceremony. It’s customary to have champagne, if you wish.”

Audrey had tried champagne once, years earlier, when her cousins had swiped some small bottles from her aunt Suzanne’s wedding. She hadn’t been especially impressed, either by its taste or by her cousins’ behavior after they had finished off the bottles. “Could we substitute in aseer kasab, if you have any?”

“Of course. I will have some prepared.”

Breakfast had tasted normal, after all. She might enjoy having some sugarcane juice again. It was, she figured, a good thing that her appetite was returning; she could feel a dull ache in her shin bones that she’d felt during her last growth spurt. Kyra had been right. She hadn’t reached her full height yet.

Gonna make things a little complicated where my ID is concerned… It already said she was two inches shorter than she actually was now, but fortunately no one had remarked upon that. If she got much taller, though, the discrepancy would be too blatant to explain away.

The preliminary certifications went smoothly, all systems reporting in as ready for the launch. Through the front windows, Marianne could see an approaching Atmo Platform with several well-dressed people on board. They approached the nose of the ship, extending the atmo bubble to cover part of the hull, including her window. She waved to them and saw Nguyen and Davidov wave back, both smiling. Some of the others followed their lead. Abecassis didn’t appear to be among the christening party.

Audrey had attended a few ribbon-cuttings on Deckard’s World and had always been bored silly by them. If they became more exciting upon maturity, she definitely wasn’t there yet, because the whole ceremony was dull as hell. She accepted the glass of aseer kasab that a small robotic steward brought into the flight deck for her, though, and joined the party in a toast through the window. It had been poured into a champagne glass, but its color made it obvious that it was something else.

At least it tastes good… She suspected that it would be difficult, if not impossible, to find on Deckard’s World, especially since she wouldn’t be able to risk drawing attention to any exotic interests and tastes she’d developed while she was away.

Finally, with a ludicrous flourish, the CEO of Sirius Shipping smashed a champagne bottle against a specially reinforced part of the hull. Marianne dutifully cheered and clapped with the others. As the Atmo Platform pulled back, she watched the champagne freeze, crack, and float away from the hull.

“Control to Nephrite Undine, you will be cleared for departure in T-minus thirty seconds,” Abecassis’s voice came over the speakers a few minutes later. There he was! Had two flight controllers been arguing the night before?

Sitting down in the command seat, she touched the comm button. “Roger, Control. All systems are green.”

She could have let CaptAIn handle the communications, but they had both decided that her inclusion in the dedication ceremony meant it would be more appropriate for her to reply.

They would be going a majestic four knots until they cleared the shipyard gates, but she still strapped in. For the next half hour, she listened to the different observations the control room made about the ship’s systems, answering questions on the rare occasions she needed to. This part, at least, was interesting. Not that she had any real plans for a career as a pilot, but…

“Control to Nephrite Undine, you have cleared the gateway. Begin your acceleration to cruising speed.”

“Roger, Control. Course is set, ion drives are engaged, and we are initiating the acceleration profile.” She hoped that Marianne Tepper sounded completely professional, and experienced, as she did all this. Of course, CaptAIn was doing all the real work; she was just acting as the mouthpiece.

“Happy trails, Marianne,” Abecassis added.

Annnnnd now she had to improvise.

“Thanks, Hamza. You take care, now.” Hopefully that hadn’t sounded too weird. Hopefully he would just be pleased she’d remembered his personal name.

Marianne Tepper—that was who she was now, wasn’t it?—leaned back in the command seat and tried to relax as the Nephrite Undine began its acceleration toward the edge of the Tangiers System and the first Star Jump on her voyage…

…Home?

So why did she feel like she’d just been banished from her home?